And sit and listen if you please
To sweet leaf-lyrics of the trees—
As balmy August breezes blow!
You'll dream of courtly belle and beau,
Who promenaded long ago,
Who flirted, danced, and took their ease—
Beneath the Limes!
No doubt they made a pretty show
In hoop, in sack, and furbelow;
These slaves to Fashion's stern decrees,